


Broken Wings and Spooky Things

by noxlee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Post-Case, Smut, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlee/pseuds/noxlee
Summary: A case at a Halloween party takes a dangerous turn and Dean sees a whole new side of Cas.





	Broken Wings and Spooky Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wargurl83](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wargurl83/gifts).



> For [Jen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wargurl83/profile) who requested "wings."
> 
> Many thanks to [coco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coconutice22/profile) and [prolixdreams ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prolixdreams/profile)for the beta read.

  


 

College kids were disappearing in Knoxville, and everyone agreed it was the work of a vampire.

"They've all gone missing from parties over the last few weeks and found the next day drained of blood," Sam explained. "And get this: the next big event on campus is the Halloween costume party this weekend."

"Costume party?" Cas asked. He squinted and his gaze flicked over to Dean briefly.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Perfect opportunity for monsters of any kind to blend in with their surroundings, really. What do you say, Dean? Should we check it out?"

Dean grinned. "Oh, I don't know, Sam. College girls? Sexy Halloween costumes? You may have to twist my arm on this one."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, this is—"

"Serious," Dean agreed. "Of course, yeah. Come on, Cas. Let's find you a costume to wear."

\-----

Dean opted for an Indiana Jones getup, complete with hat and leather whip.

He agonized a little longer over Cas's costume.

"Why do the costumes have to be sexy?" Cas asked, as Dean held various clothes and props up to Cas and pursed his lips in consideration of each one.

"Because it's Halloween. That's just the rules for a college Halloween party, trust me." He held up a pair of fluffy, sparkly wings and snickered when Cas scowled at him. "Don't want to go as an angel, huh?"

"There's nothing sexy about angels."

"I—" Dean started, and then cleared his throat, thinking better of continuing that sentence. "Cowboy?" he offered instead, holding his Stetson up to Cas's head.

"Please don't make me wear that again."

Several options later and it had become apparent that Cas was reluctant to lose the trench coat. In a stroke of inspired brilliance, Dean replaced it with a long white lab coat instead and pronounced him Doctor Sexy.

\-----

Much to Dean's dismay and annoyance, Sam found a shirt a thrift store during the drive down to Knoxville that read, "too lazy for a costume."

\-----

"Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity," Sam reminded them as they made their way through the throng of party goers.

"Right, yeah," Dean mumbled through a mouthful of cocktail wieners. "Check these out, they made them look like fingers." He held one up to dangle in front of Sam's face.

Sam wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting. I—hey there, girl!" A dog had bounded over to Sam's feet and was now staring up at him expectantly, tail wagging. He knelt down to pet her.

Dean tried his most dashing smile on the _human_ girl who followed after the dog. "Hi there, I'm Dean. And you're…?"

"Jen. And this," she said, kneeling down to join Sam on the floor, "is Brenda."

"Hi Brenda," Sam cooed. "Who's a good girl?"

Dean turned around to roll his eyes at Cas, but found that he'd wandered off. Alone, Dean made his way back in the direction of the food. Along the way a scantily clad Wonder Woman sidled up next to him and flicked her lasso against his thigh.

"Hey there, Indy. I see you've got a whip too." She winked, and Dean realized with a jolt how very young she looked. "Know how to use yours?"

"Yeah, uh.. excuse me, sorry," Dean muttered, suddenly distracted by the sight of Cas across the room looking profoundly out of place.

"Your stethoscope’s crooked," Dean admonished, and straightened it around his neck. He brushed his hands down Cas's shoulders for good measure, knocking out the wrinkles in the lab coat.

"The vampire could be any one of these people," Cas said, voice low in Dean's ear. "How are we supposed to know?" He scowled irritably. "And I don't understand why people want to dress up like monsters. There's nothing glamourous or sexy about zombies, Dean."

"You can say that again. Come on. Let's go get some food and scope out the place."

\-----

An hour later, they had found the vampire.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt, Dean thought idly, as he flew through the air and smacked heavily against the wall. He groaned as his head slammed into drywall and his vision blurred.

"Dean!" Cas called, and rushed towards him. But the monster flicked its hand, and Cas was thrown against the wall next to him a few feet away.

They had been so certain it was a vampire. And they weren't entirely wrong, as it turned out, but in a twist that surprised everyone, they'd discovered the hard way that demons were capable of occupying a vampire as a vessel, effectively combining both powers together into a super monster with strength enough to immobilize even an angel.

"Demon-pire!" Dean managed to squeak out, before the monster flicked its hand again and an invisible pressure squeezed hard on his windpipe, leaving him gasping for air.

He remained frozen against the wall, limbs pinned helplessly. A glance in Cas's direction saw him in much the same predicament. The pressure on Dean's throat tightened, and his vision narrowed further as white pricks of light began to dance across his retinas.

He caught a flash of silver though, and dimly registered a knife just as the monster hurled it through the air towards him. He flinched, utterly unable to defend himself, and braced for the knife's deadly blow to his chest.

But all at once, there was a sudden gust of wind. A blinding flash. A sweep of something long and dark across Dean's line of sight.

Then, nothing.

The monster looked about as baffled as Dean felt. The knife, just now hurtling through the air, was nowhere to be seen.

The momentary confusion cost the monster dearly, and seconds later its head was sliced clean off. Sam stood behind it, chest heaving, blood splattered across his forearms, as the demonic smoke furled upwards and out of the room.

Instantly, the force that had been holding Dean pinned to the wall receded, and he slumped to the ground. Cas crumpled to the floor next to him with a grunt

"Oh my god," Sam said, and Dean followed his stunned gaze to his left where Cas was lying next to him, unmoving. His stomach flipped over at the sight of dark wings stretched out on either side of Cas's prone body. _No, no, no_ _._

Dean lurched to his feet unsteadily and rushed to Cas's side, dropping heavily to his knees next to him.

"Cas?" Dean gave his shoulder a desperate squeeze. Cas winced, and the relief that flooded through Dean was palpable. It was only then that Dean realized that the wings were… wings. Not the etched shadows he had seen on dead angels before, but actual feathered wings. Huge and jet black, with a deep iridescent blue along the tip of each feather. He pulled back, suddenly reticent to touch them, unable to do anything but stare in complete awe.

Sam crouched next to him. "What the hell?"

Dean shrugged helplessly, at a loss for words.

A clamor behind them. "Holy shit, dude!" Dean looked up to see that a college kid had appeared in the doorway. Others crowded behind him. "That was some fucking incredible special effects."

"Yeah, man," said another.  "The blood and that decapitated head looks totally real."

Dean stared incredulous at the crowd of college kids that had gathered to gawk at the bloody smear on the floor. All of them so very young that he was suddenly weary.

"I'll take care of them," Sam muttered. "You help Cas."

Sam began ushering them out the door giving them some nonsense story. Jen poked her head under his outstretched arm, neck craning to take in the rest of the room.

"The lighting made those wings look practically real!" she exclaimed.

 _Wings_. Right.

"Cas, what the hell." He grappled with the lapels of the lab coat, helping Cas to sit upright. Cas grimaced in pain, and it was only then that Dean saw the glint of the knife's hilt buried deep in the sinews of Cas's wing. "Oh god, Cas. Shit, shit…"

"It's fine," Cas said, but slumped against Dean's chest.

"Sure. Totally fine," Dean grunted as he helped him up to standing and held on tight, not trusting himself to let go. "Just sprouted wings and got stabbed, no big deal." Cas leaned heavily on him and Dean braced against the added weight. "Come on, let's get you out of here and patched up."

\-----

Back at the motel, Dean ushered Cas into a chair. He’d managed to get out of the lab coat and Dean cut away his clothes, baring him to the waist. His wings looked as though they could stretch the span of the whole room, but Cas pulled them into himself and they hung grazing the floor. Dean pulled another chair around to face him, dropped the first aid kit onto the table next to them, and began setting out the needle and thread.

They’d managed to pull the knife out, but the wound was deep and required stitches. Sam had stayed behind to clean up and burn the body, so the job of suturing had fallen to Dean. The angle meant Cas couldn’t contort his body to do it himself.

“How do you want to do this?” Dean asked, not really sure where to look. All around him was taut, tanned skin and huge wings.  

Cas flexed his damaged wing gently towards Dean and gave a small grimace. “Just like any other wound.”

Dean sucked in a breath. “I can touch them?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“It’s just… they’re your _wings_ , Cas.”

“I’m aware.”

Dean huffed, took a steadying breath, and reached out a cautious hand to the dark feathers. He trailed a finger gently down the ridge of the damaged one, and the feathers ruffled softly in response.

He stared perhaps a moment too long in silent adoration of the expanse of feathers, because Cas started shifting uncomfortably.

“I know they’re not much, and damaged, and—”

Dean’s eyes snapped up to meet Cas’s. “They’re beautiful.” He said firmly. “You’re beautiful. Fucking… wow.”

Dean felt his face warm. Cas stared at him curiously and Dean found himself unable to look away for a long moment.

“Right, okay.” Dean cleared his throat, and willed himself to concentrate, did his best to steady his shaking hands. The worst of the pain seemed to have eased when the knife was removed, but Cas still flinched a little at the first touch of the needle, the end of his wing thumping once against the floor, but he bit his lip and was silent.

Dean had intended to remain silent as well to preserve his concentration, but lasted all of ten seconds before blurting out everything that was swirling in his head.

“I don’t understand, why isn’t it healing? The rest of you is fine now, why not your wings? And speaking of which… fucking _wings_ Cas!” Dean spluttered. “Where did they even come from?! I thought they were just, you know, shadowy things.”

“It was the only way I could reach you,” Cas frowned. “And these aren’t exactly the real things either,” he said with a sigh. “They’re sort of a… manifestation, and will remain as such until they’re fully healed, I think. The real ones are much larger, but don’t translate to this plane of existence while I’m contained to a vessel. They’re more vulnerable when materialized this way. More… sensitive.”

“Huh.” Dean stroked a finger along a single feather testing the theory, and Cas shuddered slightly.

Dean tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, tried not to sound like a small, petulant child when he asked, “Why have you never shown them to me before?”

“You never asked.”

Dean’s phone vibrated on the table with a message from Sam.

**How’s Cas?**

Dean set the needle down to respond. **He’ll live. Motherfucking WINGS though. Wtf.**

**Well he is an angel.**

Dean rolled his eyes. **Obviously. Jerk.**

**Bitch. Just finishing up here. Can’t listen to your snoring tonight so I’m getting my own room. See you in the AM.**

Dean set the phone down, and picked up the needle to continue. Cas’s hands remained folded innocuously in his lap but his other wing—his good one—seemed to reach out of its own accord and curled around the back of his chair; Dean could feel the soft brush of feathers against his back. He suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine, and focused all his energy on keeping his hands from shaking. The absurdity of the situation rattled him. His hands—his dirty, human hands, stitching an angel’s wings back together.

When he finally finished, he ran his hand over the upper ridge again in a soothing motion, and gave it a gentle pat. It was downy soft, but he could feel the firm strength of bone beneath. He let his fingers trail softly through some of the larger feathers as his hand traveled lower, combing through them. They were silken smooth, and quivered in response.

Cas shuddered again. Dean suddenly realized himself and pulled his hand back quickly.

Cas’s eyes snapped open and locked on him. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas leaned closer, his breath falling ragged between them. Dean’s own breath caught in his throat. “You can keep touching them if you want. I… don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered. “Yeah, okay.” He inched closer, trailed both hands up Cas’s back where his hands found purchase in the folds of feathers. He scritched at them lightly, and Cas arched into him like a cat, letting out a soft sigh and dropping his head to Dean’s shoulder to nuzzle at his neck.  
  
This was new, this thing between them. The first time they kissed had been a few months back, and it had been entirely unexpected. Cas had been stupid and reckless—again—and Dean had surprised them both when he’d pinned Cas angrily to a wall when they’d finally made it back to the bunker. In his fury, he’d kissed him. It was harsh, and all teeth, and over before it had really begun, and they didn’t talk about it.  
  
The next time they kissed had been gentler. There had been no hunt, no injuries, no grave dangers. They had just been brewing coffee in the bunker kitchen when Cas leaned over—obliterating Dean’s personal space—and with a determined look, kissed him softly on the jaw.  
  
They didn’t talk about that either. But the touches between them grew more charged. Soon, Dean found himself reaching for Cas constantly— more than he ever had before. Just to touch his shoulder, bump against him, let his fingers linger on his arm. There had been that one heated moment in the bunker’s exercise room before Sam had interrupted, when they’d been sparring, and Cas had him pinned to the mat, and Dean could have sworn he felt something hard pressing against his thigh. He was sure Cas must have noticed the same from him— certain they were only seconds from rutting against one another if Sam hadn’t walked in.  
  
But now this— this felt different. With his fingers buried in silken wings Dean felt very, very small. He swallowed hoarsely.  
  
“Dean,” Cas whispered, pulling back to look at him solemnly. He brought both hands up to frame Dean’s face, his thumb stroking gently against his jaw. “May I?”  
  
Dean closed his eyes and nodded, giving himself over to the inevitable. Leaned in, and slotted his lips to Cas’s.  
  
Cas’s hands slid up from Dean’s face to tangle in his hair, and his wings came to circle around him, pulling him closer with surprising strength. Dean tumbled easily the rest of the way into Cas’s lap and straddled his waist, kissing him deeply.

“Dean,” Cas breathed again, pulling back just enough to press their foreheads together. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple, the gesture so sweet and chaste that hot tears burned suddenly in Dean’s eyes and he blinked them back furiously.  
  
Cas pulled back abruptly and frowned, his wings falling away to trail along the floor. “Dean?”

Dean bit his lip. “Cas, this is… Jesus, look at you.” He struggled to tear his eyes away from the graceful arc of wings. “You’re an _angel_.”

Cas’s frown deepened in confusion.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Cas smiled. He kissed Dean deeply, silencing the rest of his doubts. “You deserve everything, Dean,” he said. “Your soul is beautiful. More beautiful than you know.” He kissed down Dean’s jawline, alternating each kiss with words breathed into his skin. “Bright.” He kissed his jaw. “And pure.” Two quick pecks under his ear. “In spite of the agonies it’s endured.” Dean tipped his head back and Cas continued down the column of his throat. “A strong soul.” He nuzzled into Dean’s neck. “Kind.”

He nipped lightly at Dean’s pulse point and Dean swore under his breath.

“Blasphemous.” Dean felt the upward turn of Cas’s mouth as he smiled into the next kiss. “Obstinate.” Three more kisses trailed down his throat. “Mine.”

Dean shuddered, and Cas pulled back to fixed him with a grave stare.

“Additionally, you’re wearing far too many clothes.”  
  
Dean laughed, and they both fumbled at the buttons of Dean’s shirt. The costume peeled away and Dean leaned back to yank his t-shirt over his head, tossing it unceremoniously into a pile on the floor. Cas was on him in an instant, pressing hot kisses over his chest. His breath was hot, his tongue flicked over a nipple, and Dean jerked forward, cursing.  
  
He shifted in Cas’s lap, rolled his hips down. Cas let out a filthy groan and Dean’s fingers clenched where they were buried in the back of Cas’s wings.  
  
“Fuck, Cas,” he breathed. “Want you so bad.”  
  
Cas’s arms tightened around him, pulling him close, chests flush together. Wings encircled them both. “I’m right here, Dean,” he whispered in his ear, voice low and deep, sending shivers down Dean’s spine.  
  
Dean ground his hips again, and gasped at the feel of Cas growing hard beneath him. Cas let out a low, unrestrained growl, his hands tightening on Dean’s hips.  
  
Suddenly desperate, Dean grappled clumsily with Cas’s belt, managed to get it only partway unhooked before Cas ripped it in two and tossed it to the floor like it had personally wronged him.  
  
They both groaned when Dean got his hand into Cas’s pants, managed to pull Cas’s dick free and stroke it steadily— the ends of his wings thumped rapidly against the floor again in a gesture that reminded Dean vaguely of a dog’s tail.  
  
Cas was hard. Thicker than Dean expected, and curved just slightly at the end. He stared, enraptured, stroking him steadily, letting his thumb slide across the head.  
  
Cas grappled with the front of Dean’s pants, and Dean let out a hiss when Cas’s long fingers finally wrapped around his length, pulling him free. He rolled his hips, bit his lip at the feel of himself alongside Cas.  
  
Dean’s forehead dropped to bump against Cas’s and they looked down together at the sight of them sliding together. Dean managed to get his hand around them both. It was dry, and a little too rough, but so fucking good he was close to breaking apart.  
  
His other hand clenched in Cas’s wings and his rhythm faltered when he felt something warm and oily squirt in his hand. He pulled back.  
  
“Cas?”  
  
“Oil gland,” Cas said, breathlessly. He pulled at Dean’s sticky hand, guided it down between them and Dean meant to laugh, meant to make some joke about Cas having the preparedness of a boy scout, but Cas thrust up and the laughter died on his lips, replaced with embarrassingly needy whine.  
  
Dean moved his hand faster and rolled his hips, oil smoothing the way now; the sound of them sliding together slick and noisy in the hushed silence of the room but for their panting breaths.  
  
One hand still wrapped around them both, Dean managed to get his other hand into Cas’s wings again. He tugged gently at the feathers, then a little more forcefully. Cas keened beneath him. His wings snapped out to either side as if by instinct, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. Cas’s face screwed up, his wings pulsating. They were beautiful—Cas was beautiful—the most mesmerizing thing Dean had ever seen, and he was wrecked and broken and coming apart in Dean’s arms. Cas let out a broken sob that sounded like Dean’s name and came hard, spilling between them.  
  
Dean wanted to watch— wanted to drink in the rapturous look on Cas’s face. The spread of his wings and the shimmering iridescence of them. The blueish pulse of his grace in each feather tip as he came, hot against Dean’s hand and stomach. He only managed to catch a brief glimpse— a fleeting feeling of incredulous awe at the sensation of _Cas_ all around him before he was consumed by it and toppled headlong over the edge. He collapsed onto Cas, shuddering apart in his arms.

As Dean's breathing returned to normal and he quivered through the aftershock, he became aware of Cas's hands stroking up and down his back in soothing motions. He was laid boneless against him, their chests flush together, and Dean's head buried just above Cas's shoulder in a spread of feathers. They smelled distinctly like Cas, but much stronger—ethereal, like the crisp air before a storm, and familiar, like home. Both wings, he realized, had arched around and wrapped him in a sort of cocoon of warmth. Dean held his breath as reality settled in and a sudden, overwhelming shyness returned. He wasn’t sure if he should move.  
  
Cas decided for him, and stood in one fluid motion, still holding Dean in his arms. Dean let out a grunt of surprise as Cas hoisted him up and carried him the few feet to the bed without any apparent strain. Dean contemplated the myriad of possibilities afforded by angelic strength as Cas’s wings fell away and he laid Dean downon the bed carefully.  
  
Dean found himself shivering in the sudden cold, away from the warmth of Cas’s body and his wings. Cas pulled at the leg of Dean's jeans which had pooled around his waist, tugging them the rest of the way off. He placed quick kisses down the length of Dean's legs as he did so The kisses lacked the heated intensity of a few moments earlier, but there was something altogether more intimate about Cas nosing at the inside of his knees.  
  
Cas stood back and pulled off his own pants. Dean shivered again, and grabbed at the blanket, but Cas batted his hand away as he clambered into bed alongside Dean, pulling him so that his back was flush to Cas's chest. His wings settled over him from shoulder to toe, soft at first, feather light, before settling in. Not heavy exactly, but the weight was a solid comfort.  
  
"Does your wing still hurt?"  
  
He felt Cas smile against the back of his shoulder. "Not much, no. Safe to say I've been sufficiently distracted from any pain."  
  
"Good," Dean murmured. His eyelids grew heavy and he felt sleep beginning to pull him under. "Hey Cas?"  
  
"Mmm?"

“You definitely would have won the costume contest if we’d stuck around tonight.”  
  
Dean fell asleep to the softness of wings all around him and the warmth of Cas's breath on the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr link [here](https://nox-lee.tumblr.com/post/179629555788/broken-wings-spooky-things-on-ao3-a-case-at-a).


End file.
